


Clothes (A Setleth One-shot)

by SterlingBeryl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth ends up not speaking at all, Byleth is a little shit, Clothing Shenanigans, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, From Seteth's POV, M/M, Setleth, Trying to work around the silent protagonist thing, fics where Byleth talks a lot are strange to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:38:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterlingBeryl/pseuds/SterlingBeryl
Summary: Seteth regrets his decisions. With a twist at the end.Byleth wears student uniform, Seteth’s clothes, and a poofy shirt while training. Things do not go in Seteth’s favour.





	Clothes (A Setleth One-shot)

Seteth had always been certain there was something strange about Byleth. Always silent, always expressionless, always watching. Not to mention Lady Rhea’s strange decision to appoint him professor, on first sight, based on Alois’s recommendation (the man was not exactly an intellectual). 

Seteth found that in recent days, his dislike of Byleth had fixated on a particular point. 

Clothes. 

To be quite frank, who on the Goddess’s green earth wears their mercenary garb in the monastery? Seteth found this point particularly befuddling about Byleth. Even as the days stretched into weeks, and weeks stretched into months, the professor only ever wore that one outfit; the same set of black clothes in which they had arrived at the monastery. He stood out starkly among the uniformed students and robed faculty members. 

Don’t they ever have to be washed? Seteth fumed silently where he watched from a corner of the training grounds. Byleth was training with his students. 

He swung his sword; his students wiped ceaselessly at their glistening faces. And through all the swinging and stabbing and thrusting and leaping, he remained expressionless. His feet stamped at the ground, kicking up small clouds of dust. 

Seteth crinkled his nose. Even if his clothes weren’t stained with sweat, they would be covered in dust and all sorts of dirt by now. 

Seteth was unfortunately not very cognizant of how conspicuous his presence was in the training grounds. He did not frequent the place, and during his musings, he had been levelling a death stare in the general direction of the students. 

Finally, Byleth sent Edelgard to find out what Seteth wanted. Which meant that Hubert went with. 

‘Hello Seteth. Did you want something?’ Edelgard asks with a smile. Seteth starts. 

‘Your stare was rather hostile.’ Hubert says, rather coldly. 

Seteth starts. ‘Ah... Edelgard. I was simply observing the abilities of our new faculty member. To see if he is up to par.’

‘Well, has he passed? This is the third time you’ve observed our class. The poor professor is getting quite anxious.’

‘Frankly, it’s been three months since his arrival. If nothing else, he is quite capable.’ Hubert sniffs. 

Anxious? The professor could get anxious? Seteth couldn’t quite imagine it. Whether it was truth, or Edelgard indulging in creativity, it gave him little comfort to know that the professor could be unsettled. 

‘It’s no matter you need concern yourself with. If I have an issue with the professor, I will personally speak to him about the issue.’ 

What Seteth did end up doing, later that night, when sleep did not come easy, was to roll out of bed, scribble a note, and sneakily drop it into the note box that he knew the professor visited frequently. Then he trudged back to his room and went to bed satisfied. 

The note read as follows;

I have been rather concerned at late on the matter of decorum at our esteemed academy. A certain colleague does not appear to understand the importance of keeping up appearances and dressing to fit his role. Please advise on how to proceed. Asking more experienced faculty members may yield more information. 

~ 

In the light of day, Seteth did come to terms with the fact that a note was not going to do much. It was more...for cathartic purposes. It would have been best to let the issue be, he ruefully reflected. After all, appearances aren’t everything, and all things considered, Byleth had been proving himself a dedicated and decent teacher. 

Too late, he supposed. 

That morning, Seteth did not get far from his quarters before coming upon a gaggle of students. The occurence in itself was not strange. But this particular group was far larger than Seteth had seen before, and growing larger by the minute. Something must have caught their attention. 

Needless to say, Seteth was not one to join a crowd cooing at a particularly cute cat, or marvel at someone’s newly purchased sword. He walked over to admonish them and disperse the crowd. The academy must retain order and not fall into the chaos resembling a marketplace. 

The heads shifted. The crowd parted and out of the corner of his eye a swathe of blue hair came into view. The rest of the man soon followed. 

Seteth gawked. 

Byleth was standing in the middle of the crowd. Not surprising, he was certainly a popular addition to the staff. 

Byleth was wearing a student uniform. Topped with a cap. And a...cape?

Seteth blinked. He blinked again. 

He had so many questions in his head. His expression was probably indescribable; a stark contrast to Byleth, who maintained a neutral look despite the giggling students and sneak glances. His eyes met Byleth’s calm, quiet ones. 

It would look terrible for him to start actually questioning Byleth now, in front of so many students. 

He straightened up, rearranged his face and left. He ignored the snickers from behind that weren’t even trying to hide. 

He maintained the rigid stance until he was back in his office. Then he slumped down into a chair and let the disbelief show on his face. 

Why? How? When did this happen? Where did you get the uniform? Why on earth did you add a bloody cap to it? And...A cape?

Seteth sunk his head into his arms and slid down his chair. Byleth was going to be the death of him. 

~

That was where Manuela found him, approximately an eternity later, where Seteth was still stewing, but calming down from the fright that he had suffered in the morning. 

‘Seteth, dear?’ There was a polite and intrusively loud knock on the door. ‘I think I left something here yesterday! Do be a dear and let me in.’ 

Seteth groaned. Manuela let herself in. 

‘Oh dear.’ He heard from beyond the safety of his own arms. ‘I’ll just take a while. Don’t mind me!’ There then came sounds of someone shuffling about, from different directions, an excessively loud ‘Oh, there it is! Found you!’, and shuffling back towards the door. 

Seteth suddenly became abundantly certain that Manuela was only here to observe him in his misery. Possibly on the prompting of certain students. 

He stood up, and walked to where Manuela was smiling widely. 

‘Have you any idea what might have possessed our newest professor,’ He says lowly, ‘To don a student’s uniform? And with it, a cap?’ He waits with the air of one expecting a gasp of outrage, not an explanation. 

Manuela sighs. ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of what he’s done. Seen it, even. My...how dashing.’ 

Seteth fumes. ‘It is simply unheard of! How does he expect to maintain any semblance of authority in class when wearing that garb?’ 

‘You see, I might have had an...unfortunate hand in that matter.’ 

Seteth’s eyes shoot to Manuela. 

Manuela puts a finger to her chin. ‘You see, he came to me in the middle of the night, all in a tither. I’d say I’ve never seen the poor professor quite so agitated.’

Agitated? 

Seteth must have said that out loud, because Manuela followed up with a stately nod. ‘Agitated, yes. It was quite alarming. So I asked him whatever was the matter, and he showed me a note. I told him I had no idea who could have written such a thing,’ Here, she gave Seteth a pointed glance. ‘But I did try to decipher the meaning of such a strange request, and suggested that perhaps the mysterious author wanted the staff to wear uniforms, much like what the students wore.’ 

Here was the answer to the strange mystery. Manuela’s interpretation was nowhere near correct, but how Byleth actually let that translate into wearing school uniform was a miracle to say the least. 

Manuela was still speaking. ‘I say! The writer of this is quite rude. I wear what I want, when I want, and I daresay no one has ever had the nerve to ask me to change my ways.’ 

Seteth ushers her out with placations and gentle nudges. 

~

Over the next week, Seteth lets the uniform incident fall from his mind. One good thing that came from that unfortunate mishap was the professor returning to normal afterwards. Perhaps he had seen the look of abject horror on Seteth’s face. Nevertheless, Seteth will be glad to leave the clothing issue behind so long as the professor never pulled another stunt like that again. 

On this particular day, Seteth was making his way down the corridor. There was so much to do, so little time to accomplish it. He had to greet the new knights, understand the reports, explain missions, oversee the repair of the statues, see that the gardens were in good order. To make things worse, one of his tunics was missing. He’d have to ask the seamstress to make him a new one. 

The bell rings. Students start to spill out of the classroom doors, and Seteth hears bits and pieces of their fairly overexcited chatter from students coming out of the nearest one. 

‘Seteth is absolutely going to kill him.’ 

‘Hah! Hahahaha! I had no idea the professor had such a good sense of humor.’ 

‘This is priceless but...we should probably keep him away from Seteth.’

The chattering students see him and promptly turn pale, shut down, and scurried away. 

What? 

He had a fairly good idea which professor they were gossiping about, the stoic silent type had piqued the interest of many since his arrival, but when since did the gossip of the monastery concern him? This was most undesirable to say the least. 

The students had long since deserted the classroom, for some strange reason practically running away. The answer came striding out the door. 

Byleth was wearing his clothes. 

Not his clothes, but SETETH’s clothes. His gaze met Seteth’s, and he walked over smiling, nodding to Seteth as he stopped in front of him. 

Seteth’s first thought was, ‘Oh. That’s where they went.’ 

His second urge was to turn tail and get back to his room, without running, as fast as he could, away from the ludicrous situation he found himself in. 

Why was this happening to him? 

How does one state the obvious without looking incredibly stupid? How does one even begin to say, ‘You are wearing my clothes.’ and with those words impart the very serious nature of the offence? 

For anyone else, Seteth would have swiftly accepted that it had been a practical joke in bad taste, and sternly chastise them for their poor behaviour. But it was clear from the realisation dawning on the professor’s previously calm expression that he had no idea who the clothes belonged to, much less that the clothes actually belonged to someone else. 

To break the tense standoff, Seteth turned around. The words slowly formed themselves. ‘I’d suggest, professor, that you return those from whence they came. There will be no more words about this particular incident.’ Then he strode away as quick as he could, trying his best not to run. 

~

It was past midnight when Flayn finally appeared in his quarters, creaking open his door. She saw Seteth slumped on his desk and gasped. 

Seteth looked up at her and frowned. ‘I should have known it was you, Flayn.’ He noted the dark blue bundle she was carrying. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?’

‘Brother! I found your tunic in...in the…’ She takes in Seteth’s exasperated face. ‘Well, I guess you know by now, but please don’t be angry at the professor.’ 

‘The thought never occurred to me.’ Seteth deadpanned. 

‘Just so you know, the professor didn’t ask me to borrow your clothes! Or anyone else’s clothes.’ Flayn starts hesitatingly. 

She plopped down on Seteth’s bed. Seteth would normally chastise her, but currently he was very preoccupied with needing to know exactly what happened. 

‘You see, he found me a few days ago near the fishing pond. He wanted to ask a favor. So I said I would do whatever he asked, as long as he got me the biggest fish in the pond.’ Flayn opened her arms as wide as they could go. ‘The fish he got was THIS big! It took him a few hours though.’ 

‘Please get to the point, Flayn.’

‘Right, yes. Then he said that he wanted a priest tunic, like yours! It was such a strange request, and I had no idea where I could go around getting one, but he had caught me a fish, so I couldn’t very well refuse, could I?’ 

Seteth lets out a breath slowly. ‘So you decide to give him mine.’ 

‘It was only meant to be temporary, until I could find where I could get another one. Truly, I didn’t expect that you would find out quite so quickly.’  
‘Really Flayn, what were you thinking? You have made the poor professor the laughing stock of the monastery!’ Even as the words left his mouth, Seteth felt a sinking feeling that those words were not quite true. 

‘I’m sorry it came to this. He gave them back to me just a few hours ago, looking all too flustered. I hope you weren’t too cruel to him, brother.’ 

Flustered? The professor? 

Seeing the fairly guilty look on Seteth’s face, Flayn frowned at him. ‘I knew it! I knew you must have given him a hard time. Why else would the professor look as though he were on the brink of tears?’

Seteth closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. After a moment of silence Flayne excused herself and closed the door behind her carefully. 

He must be the unfortunate victim of a terrible joke. 

~

Yes, that was it. Seteth silently reaffirms the notion in his mind the next morning. How could such an unflappable man, aloof even, ever be seen as anxious, agitated, or flustered? On the brink of tears? The notion was so far from the impassive countenance so strongly embossed in Seteth’s mind that he shook his head wildly to be rid of it. 

When he stopped, he could see a person headed his way. His face fell. It was Jeralt. 

He could go nowhere. It was the greenhouse, and there was only one way in or out; the entrance Jeralt was striding into. Heading towards him. 

Seteth steeled himself for a bad time. He folded his arms behind him and nodded to Jeralt when he stopped. ‘Good morning, Jeralt, I trust your duties as a knight have gone well?’

‘Good morning Seteth. I trust your duties as a priest have gone well.’ Somehow, there was something not nice in the way Jeralt repeated the greeting back at him. 

‘Yes they have, thank you for asking.’ 

‘Tell me, how have you been getting on with my child?’ 

‘He has proven quite capable. Rhea made the right decision to trust him with the position.’ 

Jeralt smiles. It’s all teeth. ‘That’s great! I’m glad to hear. You see, I’ve been hearing some things, regarding you and Byleth, that is.’

Seteth coughed into a clenched fist. ‘Ah, yes. There have been incidents, as of late…’ 

Jeralt continues as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘And Byleth seems to be upset recently. If I’m being honest,’ He looks calmly at Seteth as he speaks, ‘I think I had a very good reason to leave the monastery twenty years ago. And it certainly wasn’t because the Seiros folk were too honest. I don’t care if you tell this to Rhea, but know this. If I found a way to escape twenty years ago, I wouldn’t mind depriving the academy of a professor on my way out.’ 

Seteth is stunned. Jeralt turns towards the greenhouse door. ‘Until then, I’ll have a chat with Byleth and tell him you see things my way.’ Then he strode off without so much as a backward glance. 

Seteth was really beginning to regret his late night note. 

~

Seteth knew he had to talk to the professor sooner or later. He ruefully recalls the note he wrote late at night, and thought that perhaps he should have had a conversation with the professor rather than indulge in passive aggressive tomfoolery. 

Now this episode was at an end. At least some people emerged well entertained. 

But if the glares of the students and disapproving tuts from the other faculty members as he made his way down the corridor meant anything, Seteth seemed to be considered the villain of this particular story. Which was not irritating, just...sad. 

He steered clear of the classrooms and training grounds and all the other places that he knew the professor might frequent. It seemed best for now at least, to make sure he and the professor never crossed paths. Propriety be damned. 

For the most part, his days had returned to the normal routine that it once was. 

‘Erm, Seteth? Priesty dude? Sir?’ 

Seteth turns around and sees Claude smiling behind him. His mood plummets with a sense of impending doom. 

‘What is it, Claude? And, Seteth is quite fine.’ 

‘Oh, nothing. Nothing important really. Or maybe it could be important. What do I know?’ 

‘Claude. Please get to the point.’ 

Claude puts both hands behind his head. ‘I just heard that you had gotten into some, lets say, interesting situations with the professor. Have you smoothed things over yet?’ There was a strange but subtle tilt behind Claude’s words. Seteth really didn’t like the sound of this. 

‘It’s nothing a student such as yourself need worry over. The issue is resolved, and it will not get in the way of our duties in the monastery.’ 

‘Ohh. My bad, I thought I could help. You see, I heard it was something about the professor’s attire?’ 

‘Hmph. Where did you hear this from?’ 

‘So it was! Our professor usually covers himself up so much, I just assumed you took issue with him wearing TOO much. I did my best to help.’ 

Seteth finds it easy to name the glint in Claude’s eye. It was pure evil. 

‘And how, exactly, did you try to extend your help?’ 

‘I lent him one of my old training shirts and leggings. It was such a hot day, the professor was more than to accept.’ 

Seteth was at a loss for words. 

Claude winks (the dastard!) at him, and walks off. 

Seteth also turns around, and heads to the training grounds. He breaks into a sprint. He has no idea why he’s running. 

~

He skids to a halt outside the entrance. He pulls a careful hand through ruffled hair, pats down unkempt clothes. With a heart beating rapidly because of the exercise, he steps round the corner. 

Oh Goddess above. 

This was pure indecency. 

Byleth really was training in the shirt and pants that Claude gave him. And it was even worse than Seteth could have imagined. 

No coat, no tunic, no armor.

If this was Claude’s idea of revenge, Seteth had to admit that it was in fact very well executed. 

The white overlarge shirt billowed in the dusty air as the professor leapt to the side. It dragged against his chest as he lunged in for the thrust. 

So the professor did sweat, a small voice in Seteth’s head piped up. Perhaps the usual dark attire hid the evidence of perspiration. At present however, where the shirt did not hang far from his body, it clung to it, in damp patches that hinted at the paleness underneath. 

The collar of the shirt hung open, not by choice but by design, and in the open cut the faint shadow of collarbone could be seen, leading to shoulders that weren’t necessarily broad, but definitely held strength in the firm curve of muscle. 

And the leggings. Seteth never questioned nor wondered about what the professor wore under his tunic, Goddess forbid, but he was suddenly absolutely certain that the professor never wore pants that were quite so tight. 

Pale, gloveless hands, slender fingers, clenched tight around the staff as the professor shifted into a defensive position, gripping the staff in front of him with both hands. Tension and readiness written into the smooth planes of his face as waited for his opponent. 

Who was the professor fighting? It didn’t matter. 

Why was he still here? He didn’t want a repeat of the last two weeks. 

Even as he made to leave, somewhere deep inside he understood that he wasn’t going to get out of this one unscathed. 

Almost on cue, Claude simply appears as if from nowhere to corner him. ‘Seteth! How nice to see you here!’ Hilda bounds up too. 

Seteth groans. 

‘Have you come to make it up with Teach? Hey Teach!’

Byleth turns. When he sees Seteth, the quiet confidence from battle dissipates from his blue eyes. There was hesitance, and...vulnerability? 

Nevertheless, he walks over and makes a small nod to Seteth. Strands of dull blue hair are plastered to his cheeks, and Seteth imagines that stray strands are stuck to the back of his neck too. 

Claude claps his hands together. He grins. ‘Now that you are both here, how about...A heart to heart? We’ve got to clear the air sometime, right Teach?’

Seteth sees the faint shadow of horror on Byleth’s face and he hopes that his own expression reflected the same. ‘Claude, when and how we decide to resolve any sort of matter is none of your concern! If you take my relationship with the professor to be anything other than a practical joke, you will cease to interfere.’ 

Claude groaned mockingly, ‘But you’ll take forever! Don’t worry, my idea isn’t that bad.’ 

Seteth realises with a start that Claude and Hilda had been inching them ever closer towards a storage room. He glares at them with a start. ‘Don’t.’ 

But it was too late. With a shove and a push each, Seteth and Byleth were both stuffed through the small door. Claude closed the door and locked it. There was a muffled yell and crash. 

The two students stood listening. ‘Where did you get the key?’ Hilda asked. 

‘Teach gave it to me.’ 

‘Come on, Claude.’

‘I’m serious! He didn’t say what to do after they were both in the room though.’ 

Hilda’s eyes widened. ‘Wait, this was...the professor’s idea?’

Claude laughs. ‘Do I seem like I like matchmaking? I think at least five other people are in on it too. Come on, let’s leave before we hear anything we don’t want to hear.’

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot-twist!  
Please tell me if there are any issues with the writing, or how to make it funnier.


End file.
